I Guess I've Still Got A Lot to Learn
by georges1982-96
Summary: Castiel had known when he'd heard Anna's blue Prius pull into his driveway that she was going to pull something like this. He should have trusted his gut instinct and hid in the kitchen. Instead, he ends up standing in the parking lot of the local school while her kid throws a tantrum. Cue their (attractive) teacher, Sam, to swoop in and save the day. NOW A MULTI-CHAPTER.
1. Chapter 1

**I should be working on the other two fics I have going right now (and I am!), but I found this prompt on Tumblr and this story was born. **

**Warnings: Fluff. Lots and lots of fluff. And slash.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters within.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Castiel had known when he'd heard Anna's blue Prius pull into his driveway that she was going to pull something like this. He should have trusted his gut instinct and hid in the kitchen. She wouldn't be able to see him if he pressed up against the fridge (he'd learned pretty quickly how to hide from the view of the front window during last election season). She'd spotted him through the window before he could make a decision and waved, smiling brightly and herding her kids towards Cas's front door. Cas cursed under his breath and moved to let them in, pasting a smile on his face.

"Castiel!" Anna greeted him enthusiastically, bounding through the doorway to throw her arms around Cas's chest and hug him tightly. Cas tensed slightly, still unused to a gentle touch from any of his family besides maybe Balthazar. He relaxed in time to squeeze her quickly before she let go and beamed up at him. She readjusted collar of his shirt, her gaze flickering up to his messy dark hair. "Still struggling with the perpetual sex hair?" Her smile widened into a leer and she winked, glancing around the small condo suspiciously. "Or am I interrupting something?"

"Anna," Cas chided her, shooting a nervous look down at the toddlers clutching her hands on either side of her. Peter gazed up at him blankly and Andy was too focused of fitting her entire hand in her mouth to be really paying attention to her mother's language.

Anna waved his concern off irritably, rolling her eyes, and tugged the twins into the living room. "You're a prude, Castiel. You're never going to find someone if you keep acting like that."

"Acting like what?" Cas sighed, defeated. She had firmly inserted herself into the house; there was no longer a chance of escape. He tramped into the living room and stood in the doorway, watching her drop her duffel bag onto the floor and unzip it. She dug through the bag until she found a box of crayons and a stack of coloring books. She settled Peter and Andy on his worn braided carpet and straightened up to meet Cas's gaze seriously.

She put her hands on her hips and pursed her thin lips, regarding her baby brother for a few moments before replying carefully, "I just mean you are not easy to talk to sometimes. You're too uptight. You need to relax."

Cas wasn't sure if she expected him to throw himself at her feet in thanks for such a groundbreaking revelation, but she stood there and looked up at him pointedly, as if she expected some kind of response. He shrugged and dug his socked toe into the shag carpet, dropping his gaze to the ground. "It's none of your concern, Anna."

"_Damn it, Cas, I swear you're a robot sometimes!" Chuck slammed his hands down on the kitchen table, shaking the chipped plates and mugs resting on the wooden surface. Cas flinched at the sound, shocked, and pushed his seat back a few inches, eyeing Chuck warily and perching on the edge of his chair, ready to bolt._

_Chuck didn't seem to notice Cas's distress as he ranted on, "I just poured out my heart to you about this and all you can say is 'fine'? Do you really understand how nervous I am for you to meet my parents? This is a big step in our relationship, Cas, and if you're not sure about it, I don't know where this relationship is going."_

"_I didn't mean to upset you," Cas replied softly, his stomach sinking._

_ Chuck stared at him for a few moments, peering into his face as if he could see into Cas's mind and decipher what was going on in his head like he could with all the characters he wrote about. After a few moments, he shook his head and stood up, tugging his flannel robe around himself. "I've got to work on my manuscript. When you can say more than ten words in a row, come up and talk to me."_

_ Cas watched him go helplessly, wanting to call him back but unsure of what to say. Of course he could talk, he liked to talk; he just wasn't used to it. He'd learned to keep his mouth shut fairly quickly when Michael had gone off the deep end and started dishing out beatings for every minor offence committed in that household. Cas had always considered himself to be better with actions than with words; words got tangled up en route from his brain to his mouth, and more often than not, he embarrassed himself when he tried to speak articulately. _

_ Chuck had moved out two weeks later, unable to deal with Cas's lack of verbalization. Cas figured Chuck had originally seen him as a challenge; he'd been set on pulling Cas out of his shell and living happily ever after._

_ Needless to say, it hadn't worked. Chuck was a writer; he thrived on words and dialogue and language. Cas effectively starved him of that, seeing himself as unable to keep up with Chuck's gorgeous, flowing language and sentences, unable to compete with his vivid adjectives and colorful verbs._

"Anyway," Anna's voice cut into Cas's train of thought, breaking his concentration and pulling him out of the memories of his miserably failed past relationship. He leaned against the doorframe, bracing his shoulder against the rough wood, and silently resigned himself to dealing with whatever drama was going on in her life currently. She tugged at the hem of her dark purple scrubs shirt and smiled at Cas innocently. Alarm bells went off in Cas's head; she wanted something from him. He hoped it wasn't money; he was barely scraping by right now, and if he had to fork over another paycheck to cover her kids' daycare bill, he'd have to go another month eating nothing but Ramen. "I need you to watch the kids for me for a few weeks. I have a conference in California and I can't find anywhere else for them to go. Please? I can't take them with me, and I really have no other options, please, Castiel, please, please, please…"

Cas rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, feeling the beginnings of a headache in his lower skull. He sighed and nodded, agreeing reluctantly, "Yeah, Anna, that's fine, I guess..."

Anna perked up at once and bounded across the room to hug Cas again, squeezing him tightly around his slim waist. He rolled his eyes and patted her back awkwardly. Over her shoulder, he could see Peter attempting to shove a blue crayon up his nose.

This was shaping up to be a long day.

* * *

Cas allowed himself to be tugged towards the large brick school building by Peter, not that he had much of a choice in the first place; the kid had an iron grip on his hand. He doubted he could pull away if he wanted to. He shifted his other arm to hitch Andy up higher on his right hip. He wasn't sure how much longer he could carry her around like this; she was almost six now, and getting heavy. Her small fingers curled tightly into his shirt, stretching the soft fabric in their unrelenting grip. He stumbled over the curb and followed Peter towards the front door through the crowd of parents and kids in the front, looking around the crowded schoolyard curiously. He'd brought them to preschool more times than he could count, but this was the first time he'd been assigned to drop off duty for kindergarten. He dug his heels in to stop Peter for a moment, forcing the young boy to turn and look up at him so he could ask, "Peter, do you know where your mom usually drops you off?"

Peter shrugged and pointed over towards the playground where a group of kids that looked to be around his age was convening around one taller form. "Over there."

"Alright," Cas muttered, determinedly readjusting Andy and starting over towards the playground, Peter's hand still gripped in his own. He had to get home to put together some packets for his meeting at the town hall later, and he still hadn't managed to get his printer to work again after it had jammed last week. He was so single mindedly determined in making his way towards the class to drop off his nephew and niece that he didn't see the abandoned hula-hoop until he'd stepped on it. His foot slid forward and he was sent plunging towards the ground, his balance compromised. He yelped and automatically let go of Peter's hand before instinctively twisting his body to shield Andy from the fall, intending to land on his shoulder; the impact with the cold blacktop never came.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back to his feet, righting his again easily before he could hit the ground. He stepped away from the large, warm hands on his waist, his face burning with embarrassment, and found himself looking up at the man who had been standing with the children before. The man's eyebrows drew together with concern and he offered Cas a hesitant smile, brushing a stray chocolate lock out of his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Cas nodded and reasserted his grip on Andy, holding her to him tightly and suddenly feeling a lot more vulnerable under this man's penetrating gaze. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat nervously. "I, uh…yes. Thank you. I didn't…I didn't see that there…"

"Yeah, the man grinned and glanced around the parking lot with a mixture of fondness and exasperation mingling of his handsome features. He pushed up the sleeves of his plaid button down, showing off his strong forearms, and returned his friendly, dark eyes to Castiel. "They leave their stuff all over. You've got to watch out for it."

"Yeah," Cas responded, his eyes flickering up to meet the other man's for a moment. He was met with a look of sincerity and warmth that made him suddenly feel slightly more relaxed; this guy wasn't ridiculing him, or making fun of him. He was just trying to have a conversation. Cas cleared his throat and added in what he hoped was a casual way, "I wasn't expecting to have to navigate a minefield when my sister asked me to drop them off today."

The man threw his head back and laughed, genuine and unguarded. His nose crinkled when he laughed; Cas felt the corners of his lips involuntarily twitch upwards. The man tilted his head to the side and smiled, laugh lines still lingering around the corners of his mouth and eyes. "Siblings, right? I get where you're coming from. Your Anna's brother?" Sam watched the smaller man closely, interested. He'd obviously had had a lot of interaction with these kids before, unless he had his own. He propped her on his hip with the ease of someone who had been doing the same thing for years, and Sam had seen the way he'd turned his body so he would get the brunt of the fall. Hopefully, that meant that he'd be dropping the kids off more often, Sam mused, allowing his gaze to flicker from Castiel's expressive, jaded blue eyes and run down his lithe frame. The man's hair was an absolute mess, a chaotic nest of ruffled, dark locks; Sam couldn't tell if it was styled that way or if he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Castiel," Cas held out a hand for him to shake, supporting Andy's weight with one arm for a moment.

The man took his hand and shook it firmly; his hand was so large it could almost completely encase Cas's. He grinned and replied, "Sam Winchester."

* * *

The next week was surprisingly not as psychologically scarring as Castiel had expected. He'd managed to carefully navigate tantrums and tears (two things he couldn't handle at all), and Peter and Andy seemed to be adjusting fine to staying in Cas's spare bedroom. They babbled on and on at meals, and Cas could always hear feet pattering around in the small condo; it made the place feel a little more warm and alive. He felt less lonely when they were curled up on the couch next to him, arguing over what to watch on T.V. He'd never considered the option of having kids before, but he found himself thinking about maybe, someday in the future possibly wanting a few.

That idea hit a bump in the road on the second Monday he dropped them off at school. Cas set Andy down on the blacktop, loosening her grip on his baggy sweater. She immediately latched onto his leg, refusing to let go and pressing her face against his thigh. He put a hand in her hair and rubbed her scalp gently. "Why don't you go find your friends, sweetheart? I'll be back at three to pick you up."

Andy's lip began to tremble. Cas felt panic squeeze at his heart; he did not handle tears well. He always left that to Anna when she brought them over. He could feed them, play with them, and get them to school, but he could not do tantrums.

A wail slipped through Andy's lips and she collapsed onto the ground in a ball, sobbing and screaming something incoherently, still refusing to release her grip on Cas's leg. Cas dropped to his knees and slid his hands under her armpits, hauling her back to her feet and standing her up in front of him. He looked her in the eye and demanded firmly, "Andy, please stop crying."

She paused in her wails to stare at him in confusion for a few moments before returning to doubling over in breathless sobs and clinging to Cas's jacket, refusing to let go. Cas tried to pry her off of him again, unsuccessfully. She just wailed louder. He could feel the other parent's eyes on him, judging him; they probably thought he was some kind of unfit parent.

He felt a cold weight settle in his stomach at that thought; he pushed the feeling aside, resolving to examine it more closely later. Now wasn't the time to do any soul searching.

"Here," a familiar hand gripped Cas's arm and held him still while Sam broke Andy's death grip on his coat. Sam gripped Andy's shoulders and knelt down in front of her, perching on the balls of his feet and smiling reassuringly at her, showing off his dimples. "Why don't you and Castiel go over to the picnic tables and color for a little while before he goes? Alright?"

Sam pulled out a box of crayons and a some folded sheets of paper from his pockets, and Cas had to admit he was impressed; this guy was prepared. Sam handed the crayons to a still sniffling Andy and pushed the paper into Cas's hands. When he handed the paper over, he leaned closer to Castiel and whispered softly in his ear, "Go color with her for a few minutes. Other kid's will join in and then you can tell her goodbye. She'll take it better."

Cas nodded dumbly, trying hard to focus on the words the man was saying as opposed to his warm breath ghosting across Cas's neck when he spoke. Sam smelled like leather and sweet soap; Cas inhaled a little, trying to be subtle, reveling in the scent. He cleared his throat and nodded shortly before holding out his hand and leading Andy to one of the picnic tables.

Cas sat next to her for five minutes and made a weak attempt at drawing a horse before he stood up to attempt to leave again. At that point, other kids had gathered around and snatched up crayons; Andy was suitably distracted when Castiel told her he was leaving and that he'd be back at three.

Sam watched him slip away from the group and head towards his car. He reached over the kids and plucked the white paper Cas had been drawing on and looked down at the picture. He bit back a smile and ran his hand over the crudely drawn lines before folding it and sticking it in his back pocket. He clapped his hands together and smiled brightly, "Alright, everyone, let's get inside!"

* * *

When Castiel came back to pick the kids up that afternoon, no one was outside. That was unusual. He wandered in the front door of the school and paused by the main office, unsure of where to go. The school was huge; the entry way was three stories tall and Castiel could see the cafeteria and library through walls of windows on the two upper floors.

"Can I help you?"

Castiel whirled around and found himself face to face with an old woman sitting at her desk in the main office. She smiled at him politely and beckoned him inside. He hesitated, but stepped over the threshold of the office, cracking his knuckles nervously. "I, uh…I'm here to pick up Andy and Peter Novak. I'm Anna's younger brother, she's out of town, so I, uh, I've been…"

"Oh, yes, yes, you must be Castiel," she cut him off before he could continue. Castiel was grateful she had; he'd run out of things to say and been about to trail off uncertainly. "Mr. Winchester told me you'd be here. The children were all checked for lice today, and Andy and Peter are still in line. We're running behind. I apologize."

"No, that's…that's fine," Cas assured her, dropping his gaze to his battered sneakers. "Is…should I wait…here or outside, or..?"

"You can go down to the kindergarten room," the woman replied, pointing towards the hall to the left of the man entrance. "I believe Mr. Winchester wanted to speak with you."

Cas nodded and stepped out of the room, trying to keep from blushing. He rubbed his face with his hands as he strode down the hallway towards where the woman had directed him, irritated with himself for getting so flustered.

Again.

He came to a stop at the door at the end of the hall with paper letters that spelled KINDERGARTEN taped up on the metal door. He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he reached out to open the door. This was just Sam. Sam who said hi to him and smiled at him every morning; Sam who somehow already managed to make him feel safe enough to respond to questions with more than one word; Sam who he'd known for barely a week and still couldn't help but think about when he was lying awake at night alone in bed.

Cas pushed the door open and stepped into the room, letting it close on its own behind him. Sam was at his desk at the front of the room, his phone pressed to his ear and his feet kicked up on the desk. He noticed Cas come in and waved him further into the room, smiling and motioning that he'd only be a minute.

"Yeah," Sam said into the phone, pointing to a chair for Cas to pull up. He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned his elbows on the desk. "No, Dean, I'll call him next week. I will. I will!" Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Fine. Okay. Dean, I've gotta go. There's a parent here to see me." A strange, exasperated look crossed Sam's expression and he smiled a little bit. "Goodbye, Dean. Hey, be careful, okay? Alright…Bye." He ended the call and dropped the phone into the bag next to his desk, looking up to smile at Cas. "Hey, Castiel. How are you today?"

"Fine," Cas replied, fiddling with the hem of his oversized sweater. "Thank you for…for earlier this morning."

Sam shrugged and leaned back in his chair, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. The hem of his shirt hiked up, showing off a strip of smooth, bare skin. Cas politely pretended not to notice or stare too long. "You've just got to get them involved in something so they don't miss you too much. Kids don't really react well to words when they're upset like that; it's actions that really get through what you mean. They're too worked up to listen. I've been doing this a few years."

Cas ducked his head and tilted it to the side slightly. "I guess I've still got a lot to learn."

Sam sat up straight and blinked at Cas, a flash of excitement flickering in his dark hazel eyes. Here was his chance to oh-so-casually bring up what he'd wanted to talk about. "Don't say that, you're great with them. They love you." Cas shrugged and pursed his lips doubtfully, studying his open palms on his lap. Sam sucked in a deep breath and tried to make his voice neutral when he offered, "You're always welcome to help out here."

"With what?" Cas asked, glancing around the room. It was set up so the kids sat at long tables facing the chalkboard at the front of the room. There were waist high shelves lining the walls, filled with books, stacks of paper, and plastic bins. A bright red table was set up in the corner; Cas noticed upon further inspection that instead of a flat top, the top was a container filled with colored rice. There was a clander on the back wall and the room was papered with posters and pictures. Across the front of the room, above the chalkboard, the letters of the alphabet were taped up. Each intricate letter had an animal or an object that began with that letter somehow incorporated into the picture. Cas could see from where he sat that they were hand drawn; he wondered if Sam had made them.

Sam shrugged and leaned forward, watching Cas eagerly and begging him with his eyes to say yes. "Reading to the kids, helping run activities we do in class, crafts…anything."

"I'm not god at reading out loud," Cas said matter-of-factly, trying to quash the small amount of hope blooming in his chest. Sam wanted him around. He was encouraging him to stay. Cas could have the chance to spend more time with the kids (who he had found himself growing increasingly fond of), and he'd get to see Sam at least once a week; it was a win-win. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands in his lap. "And I'm not creative."

"Castiel Novak, you cannot tell me you're not creative after I saw the picture you drew of that pony this morning," Sam pointed an accusatory finger at him, the corner of his lips curled up in a lopsided smile. His hair fell into his eyes and his nose crinkled with suppressed laughter. Cas felt his resolve weaken a little. "Just give it a try. It'd be great to have some help around here once in a while."

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes, looking away from Sam's hopeful face and gazing out the window. "I guess once in a while can't really hurt."

* * *

Two months later, 'once in a while' has become once or twice a week and occasionally on weekends if there was a lot of preparation for a craft involved. That particular Saturday, Sam and Cas were alone in the classroom, curling ribbon and cutting out tags in the shape of Christmas trees for the gifts the kids would be making for their parents later that week. Castiel had somehow been stuck with cutting out the tags, a task that he was struggling with miserably. Sam glanced over and snorted when he saw the mangled mess of green paper in Cas's hands. Cas glared at him and tossed the paper into the recycling bin; it was beyond saving.

"I warned you I wasn't good at this," Cas snapped, picking up a fresh sheet of paper to start over.

Sam just smiled, showing off his dimples, and returned his gaze to the scissors and ribbon in his hands. Cas watched him for a few moments, enthralled with how easily Sam worked. He deftly ran the scissors over the ribbon, his calloused fingers holding it perfectly steady, and smoothly cut the newly curled ribbon off the spool. His hair fell around his face in a soft curtain of chocolate locks, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. Cas opened his mouth to speak, but froze. What was he supposed to say?

_I think you're beautiful?_

_ I really like you?_

_ Are you busy tonight?_

It would probably come out as a flustered "You really like I'm beautiful tonight busy", and then he'd have to splutter and stutter and try to explain himself and just make it worse with every word, and there was nothing he hated more than the feeling he was digging himself into a hole that he couldn't get out of. He remembered the look Michael had gotten on his face whenever Cas had attempted falteringly to make a point, or speak up, or offer an opinion; when he thought of the dead look in his brother's eyes, he shuddered involuntarily. His throat felt completely dry; he couldn't talk if he wanted to.

"Hey, Cas?" Sam's voice broke into his thoughts and Cas found himself looking into the same concerned eyes he had almost three months ago. Sam tilted his head to the side and asked softly, "What's up?"

_It's actions that really get through what you mean_

Cas stared at Sam for a moment before pushing himself forward and sealing his lips over Sam's. He expected Sam to freeze or push him away within a matter of seconds, shocked and appalled with Cas's advances. He was surprised when he felt one of Sam's arms wind around his waist to pull him closer, so he was practically straddling Sam's lap, and Sam's other hand moved to spread open on the small of his back to support him. Cas allowed his hands to wander up the back of Sam's neck and into his hair, twining his fingers through the thick, soft locks.

He felt Sam smile against his mouth; when Sam spoke, his lips moving against Cas's as he formed the words. "I guess this means I don't have to coerce you into volunteering to see you anymore."

"I'll still help out," Cas laughed softly, ducking his head and pressing his forehead against Sam's so he could meet Sam's fond gaze. Cas felt his smiled widen slightly and a warm, content feeling pooled in his chest. "If you want."

"Yeah," Sam pressed his lips briefly to Cas's and smiled at him gently. He gripped Cas's hands in his own, twining their fingers together and squeezing tightly. Cas pressed a hesitant kiss to Sam's cheek and Sam felt a blush rising up the back of his neck. He cleared his throat and added, "That would be great."

Cas smiled at him and ducked his head shyly. "As long as we don't let my sister find out about this. Not that I'm ashamed, she just…she is inordinately interested in my love life."

Sam threw his head back and laughed, honest and open and every bit as beautiful as the first day they'd met on the playground and he'd somehow managed to catch Cas before he could fall.

* * *

**That's it! Just a one-shot. I hope you liked it.**

**Please tell me what you thought if you have a second! I really appreciate it:)**

**Thanks for reading.**

**EDIT: This will no longer be a one shot. It will be a series of one shot-type things in this verse because I like it. I tried to resist it, but I can't help myself. **

**Next installment: Sam and Cas are considering having kids of their own, x amount of years later. The way they find the kids they adopt is not at all the way the expected to. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I know I said one-shot, but I couldn't help myself. The next mini-series will be Sam and Cas adopting children (and I don't usually do fluff, so bear with me, because this is fluffy, but still sort of angsty). It will be in three parts, this is part one. **

**I hope you like it! let me know if I should keep on with it:)**

**WARNINGS: language, slash, child abuse (physical and emotional), possible implications of rape (maybe), and me trying to write fluff.**

* * *

Sam rubbed his face in his hands, sighing softly. He glanced up at the clock and sucked in a deep breath. It was almost 6:30 and Ansem Gallagher's father still hadn't shown to pick him up from school. Sam had promised Cas he'd leave right after school to meet him at the adoption agency. He'd been late for the last meeting and didn't look forward to getting another disapproving look from the secretary who gave Cas sympathetic looks every time they walked by the front desk. Cas had said he'd understood and told Sam not to worry, but Sam couldn't shake the guilt of, yet again, spending time at the school when he should be spending time with his partner. Ansem didn't seem fazed that his father hadn't come to pick him up. He was on the floor building a castle of blocks, blissfully unaware that his dad was over an hour late.

The classroom door opened and a teenage boy Sam recognized as Ansem's older brother slipped into the classroom. He forced a smile at Sam and exasperatedly pushed his thick curls out of his eyes. The kid was wearing a sweater that was two sizes too big for him, but no jacket, and Sam could see him shivering from where he was sitting behind his desk. The boy rubbed his bright red nose and stumbled over his words as he tried to explain himself. "Hi. I, uh, I'm so sorry it's so late, I got here as soon as I could. I didn't…I would have called, but I don't have the school's number…Ansem, c'mon."

Ansem hopped up from the floor, sending the tower of blocks tumbling. He shot Sam a nervous glance and quickly knelt down to pick them up. Sam watched him scurry to put away the pile of blocks for a moment, uneasy. He stood up and approached Ansem's brother, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sam Winchester. I don't think we've ever really been introduced."

"No, usually I'm on time and get lost in the mob," the kid smiled a little more naturally and took Sam's hand, shaking it firmly before digging his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. "I'm Andy. His brother."

"He's a great kid," Sam offered, glancing back at where Ansem was stacking the blocks neatly in the plastic bin they were stored in. Sam was torn between being impressed and concerned; maybe Ansem had been taught to clean up, but he would have expected the kid to try to get out of here as soon as possible after being stuck there for so long. There was so much he didn't understand about Ansem yet. "Quiet, though."

Andy tilted his head to the side, his dark eyes fixed on his brother. He replied steadily, with little inflection in his voice, "Yes, sir. He doesn't talk much."

Sam nodded and glanced over at Andy, curious. A dark mark he'd passed off as a shadow when the boy walked in appeared, on closer inspection, to be a bruise. The crescent shape mark looked almost like a particularly dark bag under his eye, but Sam recognized it as the fading remnant of a nasty black eye. He drew his bottom lip in under his teeth and contemplated asking, but decided against it. He didn't know this kid well enough. His own teachers would have already asked him and taken care of it if there was any concern.

Ansem finished putting the blocks back and stood up again. He picked up his backpack and ran over to his brother, unashamedly wrapping himself around Andy's leg the same way Sam had seen countless kids do to their mothers. Andy put a hand in his hair and smiled tiredly down at Ansem. "Ready?"

Ansem nodded, his face still pressed against Andy's thigh. He detached from his brother long enough to wave at Sam before clinging to Andy again as they walked out of the room. Andy took it into stride without a pause, obviously used to walking around with a five year old clinging to him. Sam turned his attention to the window and waited a few moments until he saw them cross the parking lot. Andy had lifted Ansem up to carry the tired five year old to the car. Sam pursed his lips as he watched Andy get his baby brother settled into the car seat, trying to keep back the memories of Dean doing the same thing for him twenty-four years ago.

* * *

Cas shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair across from the social worker, trying to keep a pleasant smile on his face. She flipped through his and Sam's file, scrutinizing it carefully. Cas tapped his fingers on his knee impatiently, his stomach fluttering nervously. He glanced at the clock mounted to the wall next to the door; six o'clock.

Sam was officially embarrassingly late. Cas cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the heavy silence, and tried to apologize to Mrs. Atkins. "I…I'm sorry. He's a teacher, and he works late sometimes. Not teaching, I mean, they have an after school program for kids who have parents that have to…have to pick them up late." He bit the inside of his cheek, frustrated. He'd been working on making himself more clear and precise when he spoke, but nerves tended to shake him up enough to send him plunging back into speaking in vague, stuttered sentences.

"I see," Mrs. Atkins replied dryly, eyeing Cas over the thin silver rim of her glasses. She dropped her gaze back to the papers. "Does he work this late often?"

"No," Cas replied honestly. "He must be on his way by now. Something must have held him up."

She hummed doubtfully without lifting her eyes from the folder. Cas was about to pull out his phone and try to call Sam again when the office door opened and Sam slipped inside, his cheeks red with cold and struggling to keep a hold of the stacks of papers in his arms. Cas immediately rose to his feet and took the papers before they could fall, shooting Sam a look of incredulity. Sam raised an eyebrow and bit his bottom lip apologetically. Cas rolled his eyes slightly and returned to his seat, placing the stack of papers carefully on his lap. "We haven't started yet."

"You shouldn't have waited," Sam slid into the seat next to Cas, pulling off his hat and gloves and setting them on the floor next to him. He rubbed his fingers together to work some feeling back into them and glanced over at Cas; he could feel the smaller man's irritation from where he sat, and Sam knew he fully deserved it, even if he couldn't really help being late. He should have called when Ansem hadn't been picked up by five. "I'm so sorry, one of the kids was picked up late, and I was the only one there to watch him."

"It's fine," Mrs. Atkins said sharply, cutting off Cas's reply before he could begin speaking. "I think it would be best if we just continued. Now, your application was approved, and after the home study we've been conducting the past few months, the agency has decided to allow children to be placed in your home."

Cas couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corner of his lips when he heard. It had taken a little over a year and a hell of a lot of work to get their application accepted. The home study had been the easier part, surprisingly. Since Cas had ditched his crappy apartment and Sam had moved out of the house he shared with some of his friends from college, they'd found a condo on the edge of town together. It had enough space for Cas's plants and Sam's art supplies, and they'd chosen it with the idea of a child (or maybe more than one, Cas's mind couldn't help but supply) in mind. He felt Sam's fingers lace through his and squeeze tightly, and he heard the low sigh of relief that escaped Sam's lips. His irritation with Sam melted away almost completely and his heart softened at the good news. He couldn't help it; they were getting a kid.

"Thank you," Sam said, a wide grin splitting his face and his eyes bright. "So that means we can…that means we can start looking, right?"

"Correct," Mrs. Atkins replied, glancing at the clock. She was probably running late for her next appointment. Sam swallowed hard, trying to ignore the guilt nagging at the back of his mind. "And we will be happy to help you with that process, of course. It will take a few months; hopefully, you will be able to visit the children in their foster homes a few times before you make a final decision. Take a look at these pamphlets and be sure to fill out the forms in this folder over the weekend. Why don't you call the main office next week and we'll set up an appointment, alright?"

"That sounds great," Sam replied, standing up when she did and shaking her hand. Cas stuck the papers under his arm and reached out to shake her hand as well, trying to contain the ecstatic smile threatening to spread across his face. "We'll call. Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me," she waved him off. "Thanks you both, for opening your home to children who need it. I'm sure you'll find one that fits, and I'm sure you will both make excellent parents. Have a good night."

She picked up her folders and strode out of the room. The click of her low-heeled shoes faded as she moved down the hallway towards the reception area. Cas felt Sam's arms wrap around his waist and he found himself being turned around to face his partner. Sam grinned down at him and pecked the tip of his nose, his hands resting at the small of Cas's back to keep him in place. "My God, Cas…"

Cas slung his arms around Sam's neck and went up on his toes to kiss Sam on the mouth, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair and grinning unashamedly. "We're going to be parents, Sam; we're going to have our own kids…"

Sam hugged Cas tightly, resting his chin on the top of Cas's head and pressing his nose into Cas's dark, ruffled hair. He could feel the accelerated beat of Cas's heart though the fabric of his jacket. He pressed his lips to the top of Cas's head and squeezed his waist, a warm feeling of contentment spreading through his chest. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Cas replied, his lips brushing Sam's collarbone. He could smell the faint scent of glue and peanut butter that lingered on Sam from his classroom under his usual scent of his herbal shampoo and worn leather. He smiled, and Sam felt his lips curl against his skin. Cas batted his chest lightly, too elated to really be annoyed anymore. "Don't think this means you're completely forgiven for being late."

"Of course not," Sam smirked a little bit, knowing by the lilt in Cas's tone that his anger was already forgotten.

* * *

Sam hated recess duty almost more than he hated clowns.

The playground was swarming with what must have been over two hundred kids raging from five years old to thirteen years old. He loved the kids individually, or in small groups, but when there was a whole pack of fourth grade boys arguing over a call in four square, he wasn't so enthusiastic. It was absolute chaos some days.

That day was just chaotic enough that Sam didn't notice one of the kids fall off the wooden play set until a loud shriek of pain pierced through the din of the playground, rising above the voices of the rest of the crowd. Sam straightened up at once and took off towards where he'd heard the yelp. A group of older kids had gathered around the boy who had fallen to stare at him curiously. Sam pushed them back, trying to get to the kid sprawled out on the ground. "Hey, let me through. Give him some space, guys, go over by the climbing wall."

Some of them cleared out, but the more curious ones hung around to watch. Ansem had slipped on the edge of one of the platforms of the playground and toppled off. Sam figured he'd tried to catch himself on one of the bars, but had been unable to get a grip and landed hard on his wrist. He was curled up on his side, clutching his arm to his chest and biting back sobs of pain. Sam knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him down. Ansem flinched away from his touch and curled up into a smaller ball, whimpering softly.

"Hey, Ansem, it's just me," Sam said soothingly, moving to get a better look at Ansem's wrist. There was no blood or exposed bone, so Sam hoped fervently that it was just a sprain and not a break. He remembered when he was seven and he'd broken his wrist falling down the stairs; he'd screamed bloody murder. Ansem seemed to recognize Sam slightly and calmed down a little, tears streaming down his face silently. His wrist definitely wasn't broken, Sam noted with relief. Sam ran a hand through Ansem's hair comfortingly and glanced around the playground for another one of the teachers on duty. Ash was making his way over to help clear out the stragglers that were hovering around Sam and Ansem. Sam took a deep breath and asked gently, "We'll get you to the nurse, okay? You'll be fine, she'll fix you up. Can you walk?"

Ansem's chest heaved with silent sobs and he nodded shortly, allowing Sam to help him stand. He clung to Sam's leg the same way he'd clung to his brother's a few days before as best he could with his hurting arm. A cold wet patch formed on the side of his jeans where Ansem's tears soaked into the dark denim. Sam tried to ignore the slight tug at his heart and led him inside to the main office through the front doors. He could feel Ansem's tiny body shaking with sobs, but the kid seemed more afraid than hurt. Sam knocked on the door to the nurse's office and pushed the door open when Ellen called gruffly, "Come on in."

Ellen was hunched over her desk, flipping through a stack of papers in a folder. She looked up when they came in and rose to her feet immediately, putting a hand on Ansem's back to lead him to the cot under the window of her office. "Have a seat, sweetie." She glanced over at Sam as she knelt down in front of Ansem and took the child's arm carefully. "What happened?"

"He slipped off the playground," Sam replied, watching her probe at the injury gently. Ansem already had a few splotches on his arms in the pattern and shape of fingerprints, almost. He caught himself wincing when he saw the wince cross Ansem's face as Ellen poked at one particularly nasty bruise.

Ellen let go of Ansem and crossed the room to her desk before pulling a roll of ace bandages out of one of the drawers. Ansem watched her quietly with a look of disinterest, as if he was in a fog. The lack of reaction after such an honest display of tears shook Sam a little bit, and he grew more concerned. Ellen returned to her position in front of him and smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm just going to wrap your wrist up in this so it heals alright, kid. It's nothing too bad at all." She glanced up at Sam and added for his benefit, "It's a sprain. I'll write out some instructions on how to treat it and you can give them to his parents when they come to pick him up."

Sam nodded and watched as she bound his wrist tightly with the gauze. Ansem nervously glanced up at Sam with teary eyes and looked away quickly when he saw Sam looking at him. Sam bit his lip and glanced towards the main office. "I'll call his dad to come pick him up."

Ansem whimpered as Ellen tightened the bandage around his wrist.

* * *

Sam waited in the main office for Travis Gallagher to show up. He'd managed to convince Jo, the first grade teacher down the hall, to take over his class and let them join in the holiday card decorating in her classroom until he was sure Ansem's dad was here to get him. Ansem was sitting complacently on the cot, flipping through a picture book Ellen had given him with his good hand to entertain himself. He stared blankly at the book, his eyes unmoving, but flipped the page every minute or so. Sam realized he wasn't really reading it and watched him turn the pages periodically, wondering where he'd learned to do that.

"How are you feeling, Ansem?" Sam asked quietly, startling the child.

Ansem shrugged and nodded, his red-rimmed eyes meeting Sam's gaze; Sam could only see honesty there. He took it as a positive sign and smiled slightly. "Good. If you need anything, let me know, alright?"

Ansem nodded, smiling a little bit. Sam's heart warmed when he saw the small grin.

"I'm Travis Gallagher. I got a call saying my son was hurt."

Sam lifted his head at the sound of a man's voice and, with a start, recognized Andy standing in the main office next to an older man who was undoubtedly Travis Gallagher.

He stood up and approached the man, holding out his hand. "Hi, Mr. Gallagher. I'm Sam Winchester, Ansem's teacher."

"You're his teacher?" Gallagher repeated incredulously, shaking Sam's hand firmly. His eyes flickered over Sam from his long hair to his battered boots and he pursed his lips doubtfully.

Sam forced a smile and nodded shortly, used to that reaction by now. People seemed put off to have a twenty five year old, over six foot tall male teaching a bunch of five year olds. "Yes. He just fell off the playground today and hurt his wrist. It's only a sprain. The nurse wrote out some instructions for you on when to ice it and how to treat it."

"Damn kids," Gallagher muttered under his breath, accepting the paper Sam handed him. Sam smiled in greeting at Andy. Andy smiled back weakly, crossing his arms over his chest. The bruise around his eye had faded by then, but a new series of marks had bloomed across his cheek and trailed under the collar of his heavy sweatshirt. Gallagher motioned for Ansem to stand up and come over to them. Ansem slid off the cot and scampered across the room towards his father, his head ducked. When he was close enough, Andy's hand immediately reached out to pull him close and remained with a cautionary grip on his shoulder. Gallagher turned to the secretary and asked gruffly, "Do I need to sign him out or something?"

"No, it's taken care of," she replied, glancing up from her computer to smile briefly. "You can take them home."

"Thank you," Gallagher reached out and gripped Andy's wrist tightly to pull him towards the doorway. Andy winced almost imperceptibly under his father's tight grip, but allowed himself to be dragged to the door. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Winchester."

"It was an accident," Sam assured him, not liking the way Gallagher was yanking his son around so roughly, but feeling out of place speaking up. "It's not a big deal. I'm just glad he's okay."

Gallagher froze for a moment, not releasing his iron grip on his oldest. His cold gaze flickered down to Ansem. Ansem looked up at him with wide, unreadable eyes, clutching his brother's denim clad thigh. Andy moved his hand to rest in Ansem's hair and rubbed small circles on the back of Ansem's neck. A vice tightened around Sam's heart at the sight; Andy's actions towards his brother were almost motherly. As much as Dean would fervently deny it, he'd treated Sam with the same amount of tenderness in an unconscious effort to make up for not having a mother to supply it. Gallagher regarded Ansem's tightly bound arm and pursed his lips. "You're right. Thank you, Mr. Winchester. Have a nice day."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, half-dragging his sons behind him.

* * *

** There is part one of the series of Sam and Cas adopting children. It picks up in the next installment.**

**Please let me know what you think if you have time! It means a lot to me:)**

**Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three! Thank you for all the reviews and follows/favorites this story has gotten. I appreciate them so much, and they make my day:)**

**CHAPTER WARNINGS: child abuse, language, slash.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Cas flipped through the last of the pamphlets, reading over the back carefully. He'd steadily made his way through the stack of papers the social worker had given them, underlining the important passages to read to Sam once he got home. He glanced up at the stove clock, noting that Sam should be home in about an hour. Sam had taken the forms to fill out at work, and they'd agreed to call on Tuesday night to set up a date to look around at the foster homes in the area. Cas tapped the end of the pen against his lips, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face at the thought of Sam and him finding kids just in time for Thanksgiving.

The lock turned in the front door and Sam stepped into the front hall He shouldered the door closed behind him against the wind howling and called down the hallway, "Hey, Cas!"

"How was school?" Cas rose to his feet and moved to meet Sam in the hall. He put a hand on Sam's hip and tilted his head up to press a kiss to the underside of Sam's jaw.

Sam shrugged off his jacket and toed off his boots before leaning down to kiss Cas hello. "Good. We started the letter 'w' today, and the kids are excited to finish the alphabet." Sam shook out his hair and stuffed his hat into the packet of his jacket. Cas reached up to fix the long, chocolate colored locks, moving them back into place and pushing them out of Sam's eyes. "How was your day?"

"Long," Cas replied honestly. Usually he didn't mind his job in the Public Works Department, but in the winter things tended to get slow occasionally. They were working on plans to repair the main road in the spring, but otherwise there were no other arrangements to make this week. The sewage lines had been inspected already that month, the park had closed down for the winter, and they'd already set the schedule for the plows for the week; Cas was bored with the monotonous busy work he'd gotten stuck with. "We've gotten conformation that we can pave Main Street this spring."

"Thank God," Sam grinned when Cas fixed him with a disapproving frown at the flippant use of God's name. "Sorry. But, really, Cas, that road is completely torn up. It's needed to be paved since I was born."

"And the Public Works department is happy to oblige," Cas muttered, turning to head back towards the kitchen. He cracked the oven and peered inside. The casserole was still not finished, but he hadn't expected Sam to be home so early.

Cas felt Sam's arms wind around his waist from behind and found himself being pulled so his back was pressed against Sam's chest. He could feel Sam's heart beating steadily through the fabric of his flannel shirt and the familiar rhythm soothed him somewhat. Sam's mouth was close to his ear when he spoke, and his warm breath ghosted pleasantly over Cas's pale skin. "What's up, babe?"

Cas shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Sam's chest. "I…nothing."

Sam raised an eyebrow and nuzzled his nose against the back of Cas's neck. Cas's hair ticked the tip of Sam's nose and he fought the reflexive smile it brought on. "It's nothing? The last time you told me it was nothing, you ended up in the hospital with pneumonia."

Cas pursed his lips and shrugged again, unable to keep the corner of his lips from tilting upwards. "The electrician cancelled at the last moment and we had to have the lights working on the tree in the town square for Christmas."

Sam snorted softly against Cas's neck and breathed in deeply; Cas smelled like ink and clean laundry, and the familiar smell sent a warm feeling through Sam's chest. "You're missing the point."

Cas sighed and turned around in Sam's arms to look up at the taller man, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head to the side. "What? What point? There's nothing wrong with me, Sam."

"Okay," Sam noticed the snappish tone edging its way into Castiel's voice and let him go, taking a step back and holding up his hands defensively. "I didn't say there was, I was just asking if anything was wrong. Sorry."

"I'm fine," Cas snapped, turning his back to Sam and striding over to the kitchen table. He picked up some of the papers there and stacked them on top of one another, handling them so carefully it was as if he thought they would shatter. Sam saw the slight tremble in his slim fingers and bit his lip before he could ask anything else. If Cas didn't want to talk, trying to force him just made it worse.

After a few long moments of silence, Cas cleared his throat and leaned heavily on the table, not facing Sam. Sam noted that he'd changed out of his suit and was wearing flannel pajama pants, a t-shirt, and an open flannel shirt Sam recognized as his own that hung halfway down Cas's thighs. He looked warm and comfortable and like everything Sam needed after running around with the kids all day; it was all he could do to stop himself from wrapping himself around Cas again. Cas ran a hand through his dark hair, mussing it even more. "I…I've been thinking…"

Sam's stomach dropped; it was never good when Cas led in with that. He moved a few steps closer, but still left some space between them in case Cas needed it, and didn't speak, waiting for Cas to finish.

"What if we can't do this?" Cas blurted out, forcing the words that had been flitting around in his mind for days past his lips. "What if we can't find the right kids? What if they don't want us?"

Sam couldn't help the small sigh of relief that slipped from his mouth. "Cas, babe, that's what you're worried about?"

Cas shrugged and ducked his head, red creeping up the back of his neck. Sam put his hands on Cas's hips and turned the smaller man around so he had to look at him, giving him a lopsided smile. Cas dropped his gaze to the floor, obviously embarrassed. Sam gently tilted Cas's chin upwards again so his blue eyes met Sam's reassuring gaze firmly. Sam spoke softly and deliberately to be sure Cas understood every word he said and felt the conviction behind them. "We will find kids out there. If we have any problem, it will probably be that we want to give all of them a home. And don't beat yourself up about this, babe. Of course they'll want you, I know you'll give them everything you have." Sam smiled softly. "So will I. You know that. How could anyone turn that down?"

Cas shrugged with one shoulder and said softly, "I hated the people that adopted me."

Sam heart leapt to his throat. He pulled Cas to him and embraced the smaller man tightly. Cas pressed his face into Sam's chest and his fingers curled into the front of Sam's shirt, clinging to the fabric tightly. Sam spread his hands open over Cas's back and gripped at the layers of fabric Cas was swathed in. "We won't treat our kids the way they treated you. I promise you that, Cas. We'll love them and support them and give them everything we can because that's what everyone deserves."

He could feel Cas nod, and he felt the knots in Cas's back unwind after a few moments. Cas sighed softly, his breath puffing against Sam's collarbone hotly. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and hoarse. "If…if I don't…if I don't…promise you'll stop me."

"You won't," Sam said firmly, slightly perplexed by Cas's insistence.

Cas's fingers dug into Sam's arms so hard they would undoubtedly leave bruises. He met Sam's gaze steadily and repeated commandingly, "Promise me, Sam."

"Alright," Sam promised, perplexed by Cas's insistence. He knew most of Cas's family wasn't exactly loving; he'd gotten the impression that they were downright frigid with each other. He recalled the scars that crisscrossed over Cas's back and chest in a patchwork of thin white lines. He'd traced his fingers over them more times than he could count, a mixture of anger and admiration whirling in his chest. He knew that if he ever got the chance to meet a few of Cas's brothers he wouldn't hesitate to punch them in the face for what they put him through, but he couldn't help the awe he felt knowing how strong Cas had come out of a horrible situation. He held Cas tighter, slipping his cold hands under the back of Cas's shirts. Cas shivered slightly, but didn't push Sam away. "You won't, Cas. I know you won't. But, yeah, I promise, babe."

Cas nodded shortly and shuffled closer to the curve of Sam's body, nestling himself against Sam's chest. Sam fingers felt like tendrils of ice curling around his sides, and he couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body. "Thank you."

Sam kissed him softly on the lips; Cas felt Sam smile against his mouth. He found himself smiling back despite the knot of worry twisting in his stomach. Sam drew away, grinning goofily and moving his cold hands to grip Cas's hips. "Do you have the pamphlets? We can go over them now, since we've got some time." Sam kissed his forehead absently, reaching for the stack of papers on the table. He looked down at Cas, raising his eyebrows high on his forehead in a silent question, gauging Cas's reaction with concern, and Cas felt the warmth he'd been craving all afternoon spread through his chest.

* * *

Sam was concerned when Ansem wasn't at school the next day. Travis Gallagher seemed about as apt to take a day off if his kid was sick as John Winchester had been when Sam was a kid. He didn't have too much time to dwell on it, because teaching twenty-four five year olds how to count past thirty required all of his attention.

By the end of the day, he was pretty much ready to drag himself home and collapse into bed with his warm, loving husband and listen to Cas talk about whatever project he was working on at the town hall, about his coworkers, about the town Sheriff who Cas fervently denied had a crush on him, but had no other explanation for the dinner invitations he kept politely turning down. He wanted to talk a little bit more about exactly what Cas was thinking about this whole experience adopting a kid. They'd been to two foster homes so far, and hadn't found a match yet. Sam could tell Cas was feeling discouraged and slightly insecure about the whole situation, and it was slightly worrying. Sam gave up on trying to focus on his lesson plans for next week and snapped his planner closed, too tired to do any more that night.

He stood up and pulled on his jacket, glancing outside. Black was already greedily staining the blue of the afternoon winter sky; it would probably be dark by the time Sam got home. It was pitch black by four thirty on a good day, lately.

As he made his way down the hallway to the front doors, waving goodbye at Jo and Ash as he passed their classrooms, his phone started to ring. He dug it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. Cas's picture flashed across the screen and Sam flipped the phone open, smiling a little. The picture was of Cas looking down at him disapprovingly from where he was perched on a branch of the tree in front of their house with a tangle of Christmas lights in his hands, and it never failed to force a grin. "Hey, Cas. What's up?"

"Hi," Cas's voice was distant and gruff; he must have been moving around as he spoke, probably trying to reach one of the tall shelves in the archive room, or repairing the holiday display in front of the town hall, or heading off to a meeting in the church next door. Honestly, Sam didn't understand Cas's job description, but he figured that no one else at the town hall (including Cas himself) really did either. "I'm going to be late tonight; I just got a call that they need me across town to meet with the superintendent."

"Alright," Sam replied, trying not to sound too disappointed. He pulled open the front door and braced himself before stepping into the freezing air. "What time should you be home?"

There was the sound of shuffling and papers being readjusted and crumpled before Cas replied, "Nine-ish, maybe? Don't wait for me to eat, you go ahead."

"I'll leave something in the microwave for you," Sam agreed, shifting his shoulder before his bag could slide off as he started towards his car. "Good luck at the meeting."

"I'll need it," Cas muttered, his words barely comprehensible through the phone.

Sam's eyebrows drew together and he asked, "What do you mean? What's the meeting about?"

"They've been bugging me about the soccer fields for years," Cas gave a long suffering sigh and Sam heard a door slam through the connection. "They always want something, and it always requires copious amounts of paperwork…"

"So I should have beer ready for when you get home, too?" Sam smiled softly, cradling his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he unlocked the car's door. "Possibly the whiskey Dean left last time he came by?"

"Possibly both," Cas sighed, and his tone softened at the joking lilt in Sam's tone. "If this is an attempt to ply me with alcohol until I can't worry any more, it's becoming surprisingly tempting."

"You worry way too much sometimes," Sam agreed, tossing his bag into the passenger's seat. He happened to glance up and saw that there was another figure across the parking lot, near the high school's side of the parking area. Sam squinted and strained his eyes to try to make out the figure leaning on the side of an old pickup truck, head dropped into their hands and shoulders hunched. "But you wouldn't be you without your constant state of worry." He heard Cas snort indignantly, and he rolled his eyes. Cas knew perfectly well that he did have a tendency to worry; Sam was concerned he'd develop stomach ulcers from stress before he was thirty. "I've got to go, I'm about to leave the school. Love you, babe."

"Love you, too," Cas replied begrudgingly, still slightly miffed by Sam's comment. "See you at home."

"Good luck," Sam closed the phone and stuffed it into his pocket. He closed the car door and made his way over to the hunched figure by the truck cautiously. On closer inspection, he saw that it was Andy. He approached the slumped teenager cautiously and asked, cringing and flinched, "Hey. Are you alright?"

Andy jumped at the sound of Sam's voice and automatically took a few steps back defensively. When he saw it was Sam, he relaxed slightly and gave a forced smile. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his threadbare coat and looked up at Sam. "I, uh, yeah, my truck just…it's old. It broke down again, so I called my dad, I'm waiting for him to call me back."

"What's wrong with it?" Sam asked, looking the truck over. He'd spent enough weekends with Dean at the garage to learn a thing or two about cars. "Are you sure it's not just the battery?"

"Yeah," Andy replied, sighing and running his hand through his thick curls. "The battery's fine, I just got it replaced. It's the engine. It's so old, I swear to God it breaks down every other day."

Sam nodded, pursing his lips. He glanced at the hood of the tuck and inclined his head towards it. "Mind if I take a look?"

Andy hesitated, but nodded, and Sam reached out to lift the hood. He propped it open and leaned under it, looking over the engine to see if he could find anything overtly wrong with it. Dean had always been better at this than he was, but he liked to think he could hold his own. He could feel Andy shifting uncomfortably next to him, peering under the hood as well. Sam caught sight of the problem fairly easily and winched sympathetically. "Your fuel cap looks messed up. Maybe it's not venting right."

"How bad is that?" Andy asked, his voice terse. When Sam glanced back at him, his arms were crossed over his chest and his shoulders were tense. A muscle in his clenched jaw jumped.

Sam shrugged and replied with a tone of apology in his voice. "You have to replace the cap completely."

"Damn it," Andy muttered, striding away from Sam and kicking the front tire. Sam watched the small outburst with concern, but didn't speak up, unsure of what to say. Andy ran his hands through his hair again, tugging at the thick strands in frustration. He took a few deep breaths and turned back to Sam, an impassive expression schooled back onto his face. When he spoke, his voice was even and calm, contrary to the nervous shaking in his hands. "So I should call a tow truck and find another way home?"

"Ideally," Sam nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the almost empty parking lot. He didn't want to leave the kid here alone in a virtually empty parking lot when it was getting dark out, especially not when it was freezing outside. "Do…you called your Dad?"

Andy nodded. "He was…he's probably still at…at work. He'll probably call back any minute now."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, concern for the kid growing. Andy looked like hell; dark shadows were painted under his red rimmed eyes, and he was shivering despite the thick, worn jacket he had pulled tightly around himself. "It's freezing out here. Do you want to wait inside? I'll wait with you."

"No!" Andy blurted out immediately. His eyes went wide and his hands flew up to cover his mouth when he realized what he'd done. He shook his head and spoke through his fingers, forcing his voice to remain calm. "I mean, it's okay. It's fine. I'll go back into the school, there are still people around…"

Sam eyed the sparse amount of cars in the lot doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

Andy nodded emphatically, looking up at Sam with wide eyes that were filled with a convincing amount of sincerity. "I'm sure. Thanks, Mr. Winchester, but it's fine."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek and nodded reluctantly taking a step back. "I…okay..." Sam was about to turn and head back to his car when he remembered to ask about Ansem. He turned back to Andy, who had relaxed when Sam had started to walk away, but immediately tensed again when Sam returned his attention to him and asked, "Hey, how's Ansem doing?"

"Fine," Andy replied automatically, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping his gaze to the icy ground. He scuffed his boot across the slick blacktop, shrugging. "I can tell it's uncomfortable for him, but it doesn't hurt and he doesn't complain."

"He's quiet," Sam agreed softly, trying to recall if Ansem had ever spoken to him. He couldn't think of an instance. "Is he…why is he so quiet?"

Andy shrugged again, his dark eyes still trained on the patterns in the ice. "He, uh, he just doesn't like to talk much. He has a lisp, and I think he's just…he's self-conscious about it. He barely ever even talks to me."

"How about to your dad?" Sam asked, trying to keep his voice light and casual.

Andy's gaze shot up from the ground to meet Sam's and he responded disarmingly coldly, "About the same."

Sam nodded shortly, silenced for a moment by the weight in the kid's gaze when he replied. Sam cleared his throat and began, "Well, have a good—"

He was cut off by a cell phone going off. Andy glanced up apologetically and waved goodbye as he dug his phone out of his pocket. Sam recognized the dismissal, but remained standing where he was so he could blatantly eavesdrop. He wanted to be sure that Andy got a ride before he left.

Andy gritted his teeth and pressed the phone to his ear, shooting Sam an irritated look. Sam tried to look oblivious and dropped his eyes to the slushy ground. "Hello?"

"What is it?" Sam could make out faintly what Travis Gallagher was saying. He continued to pretend to be very interested in the ground, feeling slightly awkward despite himself.

"The truck…the truck broke down again," Andy admitted, digging his free hand into his jacket pocket. "I…it needs a new fuel cap, and I can't…the engine won't work."

"So what?" Gallagher said snappishly through the static of the phone connection. "Call a tow truck and get it brought in to a garage."

"Okay," Andy replied. He hesitated before asking softly, "I…can you…can you…I mean, maybe…"

"Spit it out," Gallagher commanded harshly. "I don't have all fucking day."

"Can you come pick me up?" Andy asked, the hand in his pocket balling up into a tight fist.

A loud sigh came from the speaker of the phone and Gallagher replied irritably, "I guess so, if you really need me to. What, spend too much time with your boyfriend lately? Hurt too much to walk home?"

Andy flushed bright red and glanced up at Sam, trying to gauge if he'd heard or not. Sam's expression gave nothing away. He didn't understand his father's insistence that he was sleeping with Jake, and was honestly completely embarrassed by it. He muttered into the phone, "He's not my boyfriend, Dad, I told you…"

"Damn right he's not," Gallagher growled. "No son of mine's going to be a faggot."

Andy pursed his lips tightly and swallowed hard, gritting his teeth. "Yessir."

"I'll be there in a minute," Gallagher continued. "Don't wander off. I've got stuff to do besides drive your ass around all night because you're too stupid to fix your truck."

Gallagher must have hung up, because Andy dropped the phone from his ear and stuffed it into his pocket, trying to force himself not to blush. He figured Sam had probably heard the whole thing, and that was absolutely humiliating. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and offered awkwardly, "He's on his way. Thanks for hanging around, but I…I'm fine."

He forced a weak smile and turned on his heel, intending to head to the bed of the truck to find the business card he had for the garage downtown stuck in the front pocket of his backpack. His boots lost the traction they had on the icy ground. He slipped and flailed out in an effort to get a grip on the hood of the truck and halt his fall. Before he made contact with the ground, arms were around his waist, hauling him back to his feet. He immediately flinched away from Sam's hands, uncomfortable with the closeness and anchoring touch. He took a few steps away from Sam, holding his hands out and rubbing the bridge of his nose nervously. "Sorry…sorry, I didn't…"

"My God," Sam stared at Andy with wide, concerned eyes that made Andy's stomach drop. Andy's coat had ridden up when Sam had stopped him from falling to expose the dark bruises that littered his stomach and hips. He tugged down the hem of his jacket hurriedly and moved back even more, wanting as much distance between him and Sam as possible. "Andy, what happened?"

Andy shrugged and swallowed hard, shaking his head and staring at Sam with wide, innocent eyes. "I got into a fight."

"Did you fight back?" Sam asked, not buying the excuse for a second. His stomach had been layered with so many bruises the skin was practically black, and his hips were painted with bruises that were just as dark. Those were not bruises from a fight; Sam would recognize marks left from a fight in a second from his and Dean's time in school. Those were bruises from being held down and beaten to hell.

Andy pursed his lips and dropped his head into his hands, digging his fingers into his thick curls. "Please just leave me alone, just go home. I'm fine. It's none of your business anyway. Why do you care so much? I don't even know you."

"I care so much because you're a child and you're covered in bruises," Sam replied, taking a step closer to Andy. Andy shrank back against the driver's door of the truck. Sam notice him flinch and stopped advancing, holding his hands up and backing off, recognizing the trapped animal look that Cas sometimes got when he felt smothered. He held out his hands palms up and said imploringly, "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Like I haven't heard that before," Andy snorted, his voice going slightly higher with panic. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths before allowing his tense body to relax. "I…I…sorry. I'm just…tired. These guys jumped me the other day and it…it shook me up."

"Alright," Sam said softly, trying to sooth Andy into a more complacent state. Any was trying to remain calm, but Sam could sense the undercurrent of panic and jumpiness in Andy's jerky movements. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I won't ask, alright? I'll just stand here until your dad shows."

Andy still looked a little reluctant, but nodded. He inched away from Sam, putting more distance between them. He glanced up at the tall man, rubbing his upper arms with his hands as if he was cold. They stood in tense, awkward silence until a black truck pulled into the parking lot and screeched to a stop next to where Andy was parked. Travis flung the driver's side door open and lowered himself down from the cab. He approached Andy and Sam suspiciously, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Evening," he nodded at Sam before turning his attention to his son. He dropped his cigarette into the snow and stomped on it to put it out. "It's broke down again?"

"Yessir," Andy replied, ducking his head submissively. His thick curls fell into his face, obscuring his eyes.

Gallagher glanced between Andy and the truck for a few moments before rolling his eyes and muttering, "Fucking useless…" Andy's shoulders hunched forward further. Travis turned back to Sam and grinned widely. The smile looked more like a facial twitch, and Sam figured that was because he didn't use it often enough. "Thanks for waiting with him." He reached out and gripped Andy's wrist in the same possessive way he had in the office the previous afternoon. "We'll call and get this towed tonight. We'd better get going if we're going to pick up your brother on time, Andrew."

Andy nodded and slid out of his father's grip to snatch his backpack from the lift gate of his truck. He smiled distractedly and nodded to Sam as he passed by, muttering, "Thanks, Mr. Winchester." He made his way to the other side of the truck and climbed in, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a wince as he hauled himself inside the high cab. Gallagher watched him contemplatively for a few moments before glancing over at Sam. "Sorry about that. This things as old as God, but he won't get rid of it."

"It was really not a problem," Sam replied, his stomach sinking. He didn't like this; something was off with Andy and his father, and Sam didn't want to think of what it could be. "He's a great kid."

Gallagher grunted and shrugged. "He's got a mouth on him, but otherwise I can't complain."

Sam forced his expression to remain pleasant. Punching a parent in the middle of the parking lot with nothing to excuse him but vague suspicions wouldn't go over well with the administration. "Is Ansem doing all right?"

"He's fine," Gallagher replied tersely. Sam didn't miss the way his gaze flickered to his son, who was hunched over in the truck, his face buried in his hands. "He had a restless night, so I dropped him off at his aunt's for the day. He should be back tomorrow."

Sam forced himself to smile again, anger and rage boiling in his chest, a vice tightening around his stomach, and replied through gritted teeth, "Good."

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**I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think if you have a second, reviews make my week:)**

**Thanks for reading.**


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